


Trial of a Tiny Estate Car

by Tadpole4176



Series: Retirement Trouble [6]
Category: Top Gear (UK) RPF
Genre: Fluff, Friendship, Gen, Kidfic, Silly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-15
Updated: 2020-11-15
Packaged: 2021-03-10 02:53:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,448
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27576781
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tadpole4176/pseuds/Tadpole4176
Summary: What if Top Gear just kept going… until someone thought he needed to retire? And what if Stig thought that was a bad idea?The trio are sent to review a ridiculous estate car. Somehow this leads to a camping holiday.
Relationships: Jeremy Clarkson/Richard Hammond/James May
Series: Retirement Trouble [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1953919
Comments: 14
Kudos: 6





	1. Chapter 1

“This week on Top Gear. I fail to do cooking. Richard gets stuck in some mud. And James scores a hole in one!”

The audience applauded and James and Richard joined Jeremy on the stage, more relaxed now, comfortable with themselves and – in Richard’s case – much less concerned with who might laugh at him.

James laughed. “To explain how we got to that point,” he added. “We have to look at a car introduced this week. The VW Lupo is back! And it has an estate version.”

“Which is ridiculous,” said Jeremy.

“Madness,” grinned Richard.

“The manufacturers clearly disagree, so we were tasked with finding out why they think it’s such a good idea,” added James.

“So they sent us camping in one,” sighed Jeremy. “All three of us, in a tiny estate car with a tent.”

“My favourite thing ever,” interrupted Richard, grinning and bouncing on his feet next to Jeremy.

“This is how it went.” Jeremy motioned towards the screens and stepped back.

…………………………………………………

The car had been packed since the night before, its boot and partially folded back seat filled to the brim with camping equipment, including a proper, family sized tent, cooking equipment, sleeping bags and a scooter that Richard could ride around the campsite. They’d even managed to squeeze in swimming gear, though no one had been all that keen on that plan. The theory was that in the morning they’d be able to jump in the car and leave quickly, beat the traffic.

Naturally, the morning didn’t go that way at all. For a start, no one wanted to get up. When Jeremy’s alarm went at 5am, he ignored it. When James’s alarm went at 6am, he ignored it, and it was only when Richard vaguely opened one eye at around 8.30am that anyone thought about getting up. Even then, they only arose because Richard’s current preferred tactic for getting people out of bed was jumping on them, and James had given him explicit permission to enter his room the night before, so he couldn’t complain if that happened.

Richard grinning manically at you, when you know what happens next, was surprisingly motivational, the two men tended to find. Certainly, on this particular occasion, both of them shot out of bed and found themselves dressed and drinking coffee before Richard had even bothered to change out of his pyjamas.

Still, that didn’t help.

“James! What are you doing?” asked Jeremy in a very high pitched voice. “I’ve just found Hamster and got him to the car and now you’re missing. You were already seated!”

“I wasn’t,” called James. “I was checking the fuel gauge.”

Jeremy looked down at Richard, whose arm he had his hand wrapped around, grinning as Richard’s eyes rolled.

“It was inevitable,” shrugged Richard, “you knew really.”

“I didn’t think it would be this bad!”

“You could tie him to the passenger seat?” offered the boy. “He’d probably stop moaning by the time we got there.”

Jeremy looked thoughtful for a moment, clearly debating this possibility. “But he’d only stop moaning then if we haven’t forgotten anything. How confident are you?”

Richard’s eyes widened. “Confident about packing, ummm. I could lie?”

Jeremy sighed. “You get in anyway.” He opened the rear door, jumping when he realised he’d got the wrong side and a pan, Richard’s coat and a bag of sweets fell out with a clatter.

Richard giggled. “I’m suddenly glad I’ve got a car seat,” he said. “Otherwise this stuff would just squeeze me out of the car entirely.”

“Probably,” grinned Jeremy, helping Richard to balance the various objects back inside, then closing the door quickly.

They walked round to the other side, and having learned nothing, opened the other door without checking. A small avalanche of detritus landed at their feet.

“Where am I supposed to sit?” protested Richard, gazing at the items lying at their feet. “Your giant shoes, a ball, a couple of DVDs, an umbrella… What, am I supposed to hold these on the way? I’m definitely not travelling the whole way with your smelly shoes!”

“Here,” said Jeremy, shoving the shoes and the ball into the footwell, then pushing Richard into the car seat. “You fit.”

“Justabout,” said Richard, looking nervously at the tower of stuff that seemed ready to fall on him at any moment.

Jeremy handed him the DVDs and the umbrella, then lent over to do up the, almost completely inaccessible, seat belt.

“Thanks,” said Richard, one eyebrow raised.

“At least you’ll stay put now!” grinned Jeremy. “I’m going to round up our other stray.”

“James! James!” Jeremy stood at the front door, yelling up the stairs. “It’s time to go!”

“I’m checking the plants are watered,” called back James.

Jeremy frowned. “We don’t have any plants.”

“That’s why I can’t find them then!” sighed James, exasperated. “Just let me check the iron’s off.”

“Really?” mouthed Richard through the car window.

Jeremy hung his head. “James, when did anyone do any ironing?”

“It’s on my list!” he protested, as Jeremy took hold of his arm.

“I don’t care,” said Jeremy. “You’ve gone beyond ridiculous, it’s time to go.”

“Fine, just let me lock the front door,” insisted James, resisting Jeremy’s tugging.

Jeremy nodded. “OK, I’m not going anywhere though.”

James rolled his eyes, then turned the key and gave the door a good shove with his palm.

“It’s fine, James,” said Jeremy.

And finally, James climbed into the driver’s seat.

Not the passenger seat, which was really where Jeremy had been aiming him. But one look from Richard in the back prevented him from arguing.

“Let’s go,” he announced instead, looking pointedly at James, who was now fiddling about with something on the dashboard.

“Just a minute, you want us to get there in one piece, don’t you?”

Jeremy stared at him. “This is a new car borrowed from the garage, James. Not something we glued together in the garage.”

“New, ridiculous car,” put in James.

Well, yes, Jeremy agreed silently. But really, at this point as long as it moved he’d be fine with it. He wondered if that had been Andy’s plan all along.

……………………………………………

Moving was perhaps optimistic.

Just 50 minutes after setting off, Jeremy, Richard and James, and the ridiculous Lupo, were sitting in an enormous traffic jam on the M4, vaguely pointing west amongst a sea of other cars. No one was moving unless they had pretty blue lights on the top of their car.

“I’m bored,” announced Jeremy. “This is your fault, if you hadn’t faffed about all morning we would have been past this before it happened.”

“It is not my fault,” protested James. “If I’d faffed about – as you so kindly put it – very slightly less, we could have been part of the actual accident then, perhaps, you could point the finger at me, but as it stands, I don’t think so.”

“Guys?” called Richard from the back.

“Don’t you start,” said James.

“I don’t feel so good,” he said. “I think I’m going to hurl.”

“Oh for heaven’s sake,” sighed James. “How likely are we talking? Scale of 1-10.”

“At least 11,” insisted Richard, burping ominously.

“You’re going to have to get out with him, Jez,” said James.

“What? Why? He’s capable of….” Jeremy paused. “Why me?”

“Because I’m driving,” replied James calmly.

“We could swap.”

“And I’m also not moving out of this seat,” added James.

“I knew I should’ve argued, grumbled Jeremy, checking behind the car then reaching to open the passenger door as Richard burped again.

“Quickly, man!” said James, giving him a shove for good measure. “It’s that or cleaning whatever’s on the back seat.”

“I’m out!” protested Jeremy, swinging his feet onto the ground and quickly closing the door behind him, before reaching for the back door. “Can you undo the seat belt?” he asked.

“I don’t think so,” groaned Richard. “I’ve been trying.”

“It’s OK,” said Jeremy, “just please don’t puke on me!” He leaned into the car, flinching when another ominous noise sounded from Richard’s stomach.

Richard shook his head, looking nervous.

“Hurry, Jez,” whispered James, reaching over Jeremy’s bent head to stroke Richard’s hair back.

“I am,” groaned Jeremy, still struggling, then finally a satisfying click noise sounded Richard’s release, and almost instantly Jeremy was gone from the car and pulling Richard out. The door slammed shut and they were gone.

James heaved a sigh of relief. “That was close,” he muttered.

Jeremy navigated Richard between the inside lane of traffic, then across the hard shoulder, once he’d checked for any more emergency services, and onto the grass verge, where Richard fell to his knees and threw up the entire contents of his stomach.

Jeremy winced in sympathy, watching several of the nearer cars’ passengers doing much the same, then pulled his phone out of his pocket.

“James?”

“May.”

Jeremy rolled his eyes, even though no one was looking in order to notice. “I’m going to take Hamster for a walk, get some fresh air.”

“Was it bad?” asked James.

“Like The Exorcist.”

“Right then. I’ll call you when I see signs of movement, you can tell me where to meet you.”

“Will do,” agreed Jeremy easily, pocketing the phone and turning back to Richard.

The boy was completely green, pale and shaking slightly from the effort of so much vomiting, but he’d stopped for the moment. He sat on the ground, staring up at Jeremy miserably.

“Did you used to struggle on long car journeys when you were a kid? The first time,” asked Jeremy.

“When I was very little, I think I did,” said Richard. “Not this big though.”

Jeremy grinned, despite Richard’s miserable expression, at the phrase, but didn’t comment. “Maybe your stomach’s still getting used to being smaller again.”

“Maybe,” said Richard.

“Or it’s James’s driving,” offered Jeremy, relieved to see a glimmer of a smile.

“Yeah, that’s what it’ll be,” agreed Richard. “I take it we’re not just going back to the car?”

Jeremy grinned, hauling Richard up the grass verge and over the hill, away from the three lane car park. “My genius sprang into action and decided that sitting bored and queasy listening to James explaining the cause of the traffic jam, or motion sickness or something might be worse than taking a little stroll. Though I would point out, this means that I’m doing manual labour for you.”

“Walking doesn’t count as manual labour!” Richard laughed.

“It does if you’re as big as me,” insisted Jeremy, starting down the other side of the hill and into civilisation, pulling the still shaky Richard after him.

……………………………………………

Remarkably, they made it to Cornwall, and onto the campsite, without any further trouble. Certainly there were other small hold ups, and it had taken a while for James to find them again after their stroll, but that still qualified as going remarkably well, for a Top Gear trip, and aside from making Richard car sick, the car didn’t seem as bad as they’d imagined.

Richard’s stomach stayed in place for the rest of the journey, though he refused to eat at all until his feet were back on solid ground. As a result, their first few minutes on the campsite were spent waiting for Richard to stuff his face with crisps.

The campsite was big, but it was early in the year yet, only June, so not overly busy. They had, apparently, decided that Jeremy, James and Richard should camp in their – entirely empty – family field though. Which was understandable - they did admittedly have a history of setting other people’s tents on fire - but slightly inconvenient. Mostly because that meant they weren’t allowed to park near the tent, which meant that the car couldn’t provide them with any electricity in the tent, and – more importantly – that they had to carry everything over from the car.

It was like moving house all over again.

Richard, the horror of the car journey behind him, leapt out of the car the instant Jeremy managed to release the seat belt, grabbing the boot and immediately taking armfuls of stuff and racing off to their pitch.

“Richard!” called James after him, despite being well aware of the futility. “Doesn’t he know there’s nowhere to put that stuff yet?”

Jeremy shrugged. “It doesn’t matter, it’s been dry for a couple of days anyway, it’ll be fine.”

James muttered, but didn’t say anything else, instead reaching into the car for the tent poles. “You want to grab something heavy, before the midget gets back and decides to be over-ambitious again?”

“You don’t want to see him flattened by the tent?” laughed Jeremy.

James paused. “I sort of do, but then I feel guilty. It’s not as funny as when he was grown up. Somewhat grown up. Physically older than 18 years.”

Jeremy grinned. “You’re saying he’s too pathetic to laugh at? Because I’m not sure that’s ever going to be true for me.”

James rolled his eyes. “Oaf. Yes it is – no matter what you admit to.”

Jeremy said nothing, turning instead to talk to the miniature, excitable Hamster, who’d reappeared at his side, still bouncing.

“Want a hand with the tent, Jez?” he asked, reaching into the boot for it.

“Sure,” said Jeremy, pulling the hefty tent bag towards them whilst mouthing “not a word” to James, who sniggered under his breath.

“Here, you can balance it on your head like that amazing Ugandan woman with the bananas,” suggested Jeremy, holding the tent bag above Richard entirely then lowering it just enough that it was resting on him.

Richard giggled. “That’s ridiculous,” he said, but he grabbed hold of the bottom and carefully walked to the pitch with Jeremy, only moving away when Jeremy lifted the tent again.

James shook his head, following along with the tent poles and the mallet.

“Right,” said James, dumping his weighty bag on the grass and grabbing Richard before he shot off back to the car again. “I think we should probably do some building.”

“It’s fine,” said Richard. “I’m great at this, I can build it.”

Jeremy and James stared at him, then each other.

“OK then,” shrugged Jeremy, walking away to watch from a safe distance, nudging a more reluctant James to follow him.

Richard looked at the pile of poles and the big bag of the tent before him. He’d built plenty of these things, it was fine. He moved to the bag, pulling the cord loose and basically rolling himself round the outside of the bag in order to pull it away from the tent. Slowly, the tent inched its way free, eventually falling out and spontaneously unravelling, leaving Richard to faceplant into the fabric as it went.

“Argh!” he cried, surprised, despite the fact that he should’ve known what was going to happen. For a moment he lay flat on the ground, taking a breather, then he realised that he had no idea whether the others were and lifted his head, looking round for cameras or giggling co-presenters.

It seemed quiet. Richard quickly picked himself up and checked for an injuries, before grabbing the corner of the tent and dragging it out, spreading the tent out completely flat on the ground and debating which direction they might like it to face.

“I thought you’d have this up by now,” commented James, wandering over with a paper cup of coffee in his hand. “You need a hand?”

Richard debated, it was a tough call, but then it was James, not the oaf, so it probably would be actual help. “Yeah, that’d be good,” he conceded.

“Good stuff,” said James, grinning as though it was no big deal and grabbing the bag of tent pegs and the mallet.

“You get those poles in, I’ll sort out the corners.”

Pretty soon, with James helping, the tent began to take shape. Raising the centre poles could have done with an extra – larger – person to hold it, but they managed anyway, so that by the time their preferred bulky person reappeared, it was all fully erected and ready for them to look inside.

“Very nice, for tenting,” said Jeremy, waving his paper cup of coffee at it. “Did you do this all yourself, Hamster?”

Richard shrugged. “James helped a bit.”

“Shall we?” said James, reaching for the zip.

Quickly the door was opened and the three of them filed inside to inspect what they’d just constructed. The inside of the tent was just about tall enough for Jeremy to stand up, with the main front part consisting of just one room with a grey groundsheet and a lot of windows all around. The back was then divided into smaller bedrooms.

“James,” said Jeremy. “I’m noticing a problem.”

“What?” asked James.

“Normally, if we go tenting, we don’t share a tent,” began Jeremy.

“OK, but we’re doing a different test today, it’s a bit like that time we went caravanning.”

“Yes, but two of us are sharing a room,” observed Jeremy.

James and Richard turned to the tent’s inner, only realising then that there were just two zips.

“Surely this one’s for me,” piped up Richard. “It’s got a tunnel for smaller people!”

James sighed, looking up at Jeremy. “Really?” he said. “I’m pretty sure this isn’t what I signed up for.”

Richard beamed from ear to ear, immediately unzipping the child-sized tunnel and disappearing into his room.


	2. Chapter 2

“Oh for heaven’s sake!” cried Jeremy. “How do people do this? Why am I stood in a field failing to light a cooker in the freezing cold! What does this have to do with a ridiculously tiny estate car?”

He moved round, trying to position himself between the wind and the cooker, then waved his lighter at the portable gas stove again. A little blue flame sprang into life, flickering wildly as the wind continued to batter against it. Completely fed up with this game, Jeremy emptied two cans of baked beans into a pan and sat it on top of the stove.

“There you go, wind!” declared Jeremy. “I am now cooking.”

Twenty minutes later, when it was beginning to go dark, he removed the, still cold, beans from the stove and tipped them into three bowls.

“James! Richard!”

The two of them appeared from within the tent, both of them now wearing thick jumpers and still looking distinctly cold.

“Beans,” said Jeremy, handing over two bowls before taking his chair.

“I like beans,” said Richard enthusiastically.

“I suspect you’re not going to like these ones,” commented James, raising his eyebrows at Jeremy.

“It’s important to have plain food to cheer up Hamster’s upset stomach,” announced Jeremy.

“It’s fine now anyway,” said Richard, scooping his beans, without noticing the look of distaste on James’s face as he swallowed his first mouthful.

“That is disgusting,” said James. “What have you been doing for an hour, man?”

“It’s windy!”

“It’s always windy! Everyone else seems to manage.”

“There’s no one here!”

“Usually, you know what I mean,” corrected James.

“Jez?” said Richard.

“What?”

“Do you think we can try the café tomorrow?”

James snorted. “Good plan, Hamster.”

………………………………………………

As Richard’s light snores drifted through the canvas, James finished off his second beer bottle, and waved it at Jeremy in the dimly lit tent. “I think it might be time for us to get some sleep too,” he suggested.

Jeremy tipped his bottle back, swallowing the remainder of its contents quickly. “Ready,” he announced.

“You’re not going to brush your teeth?” asked James.

“Have you heard it outside? It’s pouring! I think my teeth can wait until morning,” replied Jeremy.

“Suit yourself,” said James. “I’ll be back in a few minutes.” He pulled on his trainers then reached for the zip, heading out into the rain and the darkness.

Jeremy chuckled. “It’s pitch dark out there,” he told the sleeping Richard. “He’s going to be lost for hours. I should have no problem getting to sleep before he starts snoring.” Despite the sounds of Richard’s breathing, Jeremy stood up and reached over to the main zip for Richard’s room – one he hadn’t even used yet because he’d opted for the tunnel. His friend lay tangled in his sleeping bag, but relaxed and comfortable. He was fine. Jeremy smiled, and zipped the door back up, moving to the room he was about to share with James.

Without bothering to remove any clothes, Jeremy unzipped his sleeping bag and slid himself inside, shifting round to get himself comfortable. He was asleep before James got back.

The next thing Jeremy knew, he was being shaken awake.

“Jez! Jez!”

He opened his eye, cautiously. It was still dark. “What? What time is it?”

“I don’t know, night time,” replied Richard.

“Why are you here?”

“I can’t get out!”

“Why would you want to? It’s dark and rainy and cold.”

“I need the toilet!”

Jeremy sighed. “So go to the toilet, you know where it is.”

“I can’t get out of the tent,” repeated Richard, impatiently. “And I’ve been trying for quite a while, so I’m already cold but now I really need the toilet.”

James chose that moment to let out a really deep, resounding snore.

Richard giggled. “Don’t make me laugh, James!” he protested, holding himself.

Jeremy snorted. “Come on then.” He unzipped the sleeping bag and hauled himself out of his sleeping bag, chuckling slightly to himself as he reached for the front door’s zip easily and slid the opening to the door down so that Richard could both open and close the door himself.

“Thanks,” said Richard, wasting no time in letting himself out of the door and closing it behind him.

Jeremy shuffled back over to his bed and climbed back into his sleeping bag, lying back and staring at the ceiling as he listened to James snoring and waited for Richard to return. The rain was loud, really loud, probably louder than it had been when James had gone out earlier. Richard was going to be soaking.

James snored again, though still barely penetrating the sound of the rain. Jeremy debated whether that could be considered a plus. Of all the features of camping he’d encountered, the soothing noise of rain was possibly his favourite - provided he didn’t have to go outside in it. He tried to relax, to reclaim what Richard had disrupted.

Five minutes later, Jeremy was still staring at the grey canvas ceiling, wondering where precisely Hamster had got to, reminding himself that Richard was really a grown man and he wasn’t at all worried. And James would not be at all justifiably cross that he sent him out in the dark and the rain on his own, because even if he was really twelve, he was still old enough to walk across a field.

Jeremy sighed, it was really surprisingly difficult to go back to sleep. Obviously, it was a problem with James’s snoring, the rain wasn’t drowning it out enough, it must be slowing down.

James honked out another almighty snore, and Jeremy unzipped his sleeping bag again, lifting both his long legs out and throwing on a thick jumper before grabbing his coat and shoes and unzipping the front door. Off to visit the facilities himself, nothing else, of course. He squelched across the field in the darkness, his hair immediately collecting rain and dripping it down his face, his shoulders instantly soaking. The rain really was only pleasant from inside the tent.

At the bottom of the field he had to hunt around a bit for the pathway that led into the next field and the toilet block, it was tricky to find in the darkness. The lack of other tents, and even the cloudy, moonless night were all contributing to the complete darkness at this end of the field.

“Jez?”

He might not have picked it up, it was so quiet, but in these circumstances his ears were clearly on high alert.

“Hamster?” he asked.

“Yeah.”

“Why are you standing around here?”

“I’m trying to get my shoe,” said Richard, rather desperately. “It got stuck in some mud.”

“All this time?” exclaimed Jeremy. “It’s pouring! We can come back for the shoe tomorrow!”

“But there are loads of stones on the ground,” protested Richard. “And there might be bugs and worms and things.”

Jeremy rolled his eyes, though disappointingly, he could barely see even the outline of Richard, so he strongly doubted Richard could appreciate his exasperation. “It’s pouring!”

“I’m not scared of the rain,” said Richard.

Jeremy snorted, leaning over to grab hold of Richard and swinging him up onto his arm, comfortably positioning him so that he could hang on.

His friend squeaked in surprise, but wrapped his arms round Jeremy’s neck immediately, and leant his very soggy head against Jeremy’s shoulder. “Thanks, Jez,” he whispered.

“Well, you’re going to have to wait for me to make a trip to the facilities though,” Jeremy told him gruffly.

“That’s OK, I haven’t been yet.”

“Don’t pee on me then,” muttered Jeremy, his free arm rubbing at Richard’s side in sympathy, belying his words.

“Don’t make me laugh then,” retorted Richard, without missing a beat.

Typically, by the time Jeremy walked back across the field, Richard fastened to him like a limpet, the rain was genuinely easing. Had he waited longer, he probably wouldn’t have got wet at all. But he couldn’t really regret it, even if he ignored the irritation of listening to James snoring and keeping him awake, presumably Richard would just have stayed outside on his own, freezing cold in the pouring rain, searching for his shoe. Ridiculous man – boy - person! He was shivering violently enough as it was, and clearly not really firing on all cylinders.

They reached the tent, Jeremy tucking Richard under one arm as he used his hand to get hold of the zip and rapidly getting both of them inside. He placed Richard on his feet as he zipped the door closed again, then turned his attention to his friend. He was soaking, dripping even, and impressively muddy below the knees. Rather than looking as though he’d got up in the night to relieve himself, he looked like a toddler who’d been to the park on a rainy day.

He was also shivering, a lot, but not really moving to do anything about it.

“Hamster?” said Jeremy, quietly. “Don’t you think it’d be a good idea to get changed?”

“I’m not sure where my clothes are,” replied Richard miserably, his teeth chattering violently.

“Right.” Jeremy looked round, debating the wisdom of waking James, who almost certainly knew exactly where everything Richard owned was, versus the likelihood of violence if James was awoken unexpectedly in the middle of the night – even if it qualified as an emergency. “Take the wet pyjamas off, and I’ll see if I can find your clothes. Here, you can hide in my jacket while you wait.”

Jeremy slung the jacket at Richard’s feet, hoping he didn’t try to put it on before he took off the wet clothes, and reached to turn the dim, battery powered lantern back on. In the corner of the room, neatly stacked – definitely James – were their three bags. He reached for the smallest of them, opening it up and revealing a thick, woollen jumper. “Here,” he said, turning back to Richard, who now stood shivering and completely swamped by Jeremy’s coat, his sodden pyjamas at his feet. “Put this on.”

Richard cooperated, in that he held his arms in the air, but he didn’t really say much or do anything much of his own volition, allowing Jeremy’s coat to slide back to the floor as he did so.

Jeremy rolled his eyes. “Are you sleeping on your feet, Hamster?”

Richard looked up at him. “A bit,” he grinned slowly. “I’m tired. And cold.”

“Think how warm your sleeping bag is going to be when you sort yourself out,” pointed out Jeremy, handing him some huge, thick socks.

The boy obliged, pulling the socks on relatively quickly, but still only really responding to instruction. Jeremy ended up practically herding him to his sleeping bag, essentially posting him through the little tunnel into his room, before heaving a sigh of relief and finally removing his own extra layers.

“Right, more sleep,” he nodded to himself, hoping there were no more interruptions.

Richard shuffled down into his sleeping bag, trying to get comfortable and warm up a bit. He was exhausted, and desperate to get back to sleep, but shudders were still running through him, and his brain just kept hanging on to looking for his shoe, and bugs crawling into it or it filling up with rain. What could possibly have happened to it? He yawned, trying to relax. There was hardly anyone around, it would be fine. They could clean the bugs out, no problem.

He rolled over, which made Jeremy’s own rustling noises on the other side of the fabric wall seem much closer, and reached his icy hand out, touching the wall where it bulged into his room.

“Hamster? You OK?” asked Jeremy quietly.

“I’m cold,” grumbled Richard, “and I can’t get back to sleep.”

“Come here,” sighed Jeremy. “Bring your sleeping bag though,” he added.

Richard crawled through the tunnel, and into Jeremy and James’s room, trailing his sleeping bag behind him.

“Close the zip,” whispered Jeremy, as the sleeping bag finally cleared the door.

Richard reached down and screeched the zip back closed, still shivering from the cold, but there wasn’t a draft any more anyway. He looked round to see James, still entirely undisturbed by the entire drama, now facing away from them towards the outside of the tent.

Jeremy followed his gaze. “He’s snoring at the neighbours now,” he whispered with a chuckle.

“Evil,” grinned Richard.

“Come here then,” said Jeremy, hauling Richard’s sleeping bag alongside his and practically stuffing the boy into it before zipping it up. Then, settling down on his side himself, he pulled Richard back against his chest. “This should help with the cold,” he explained. “But if you keep wriggling I’m sending you back.”

“This is better,” agreed Richard. It was. Although most of Jeremy’s heat was safely in his own sleeping bag, the extra layers of protection from the outside, created by his huge body, and the arm that was now slung casually over the top of them, really helped. He wasn’t warm exactly, but it did feel as though he might get warm at some point. Finally, Richard relaxed and nodded off.

………………………………………………

James woke up bright and early, feeling surprisingly well rested for a camping holiday. He lay back in his sleeping bag for a few minutes, listening to the early morning sounds of the campsite around him. People rustling about, the few other tents and their zips, birds, traffic. Rubbing his eyes, he sat up, well aware that he was going to need to get moving soon. He looked over at Jeremy, wondering if he was awake yet. He couldn’t hear anything from Richard in the other room.

He slid out of the sleeping bag and stumbled into the other room in search of clothes, shivering in the cold morning air. Once dressed, he took another look to check if Jeremy was close to moving, then peered into the top of Richard’s room, surprised he was still asleep.

Richard wasn’t there.

A wave of panic passed over James, before he caught himself and reminded himself that Richard was mostly a grown man, and had been taking care of himself for years. If, perhaps, not so much recently. He looked again, maybe he’d missed him. But there was still no sign.

Moving to put his shoes on, James shuffled over to the door, aware that he needed to answer a call of nature imminently. As he was hopping around sliding on his left shoe, his right foot stepped on something soft and soggy.

“Ugh, what is that?” he muttered to himself.

He reached down to discover Richard’s pyjamas, definitely the pyjamas he’d been wearing when he went to bed last night. He frowned, looking back at the empty room and holding the sodden pyjamas.

“Richard?” he said, though still quietly enough that he wouldn’t wake Jeremy.

A noise made him look back in their room to check on the older man, and there almost completely hidden by Jeremy’s mass, was Richard.

James shook his head, wondering what on earth could possibly have been going on, but satisfied that there was no cause for concern, and stepped out into the fresh morning air.

Outside the tent, James was greeted by a gold envelope, stuck to the front of the tent door with tape. He ripped it open, scanning through the instructions before reading it aloud.

“You are on a camping trip in a family estate car. Therefore, you should try it out on a family outing. Pack the car with everything you need for a day trip to the crazy golf course and the beach,” James paused. “PS We’ll be entering the tent in 15 minutes with cameras.”

James chuckled, trying to imagine what Top Gear would make of Jeremy and Richard cuddling in their sleep, then re-entered the tent. “Jezza! Hamster! Time to get up!”

“James? Go away, it’s not morning yet.”

“It is indeed morning and we already have our first envelope ready and waiting.”

Richard’s head disappeared back into his sleeping bag with a groan, whilst Jeremy shuffled slightly more upright.

“What’s it going to be?” he asked.

“Beach and crazy golf,” responded James.

“Very authentic,” moaned Jeremy, rummaging round for the zip to his sleeping bag.


	3. Chapter 3

Fifteen minutes later, Jeremy and James stood outside the front of the tent, arguing about whether crazy golf should happen before or after going to the beach. Then, finally, Richard poked his head out of the door.

“Are you finally ready?” asked James, impatiently.

“Mostly,” replied Richard, looking slightly sheepish.

“What do you mean, mostly?”

“I’ve only got one shoe,” he admitted, emerging more fully to stand on the edge of the tent.

James stared at him for a moment, surprised. “Right. Hamster, why do you only have one shoe?”

“Well, I lost it last night at the bottom of the field,” he muttered.

James sighed, taking in Jeremy’s smirk. “I take it you knew about this?”

“Well, yes, in the sense that I had to convince him to stop looking for it in the pitch dark.”

“How? How do these things always seem to happen to you two?” His gaze flitted intently between the others. “OK, Jeremy, you go to the bottom of the field and see if you can find the shoe. I will go to the campsite shop and see if they sell footwear. You.” He stopped, unsure what it was best for Richard to do. “You - don’t move from that spot. We’ll be back in a minute.”

“OK.” Richard looked quite despondent as the others headed off in search of footwear, squelching across the field that was still wet from last night’s rain.

“Did you just put him on the naughty step, James?” whispered Jeremy, as they walked away.

“Definitely,” said James, moving past Jeremy as he stopped to poke at the bushes, trying to work out where the shoe could possibly have got to.

Richard stood at the door to the tent, shuffling his feet about, already bored. He could see Jeremy down at the bottom of the field, mucking about with the bushes in roughly the right place, and there was no sign of it so far. There was no sign of James either, Richard was quite curious what he was going to turn up with. He fiddled with the tent’s zip as he waited, wondering how long this was going to take. James was going to kill him if he’d actually lost one of his new shoes.

Maybe he could pass the time by planning his funeral. Could he insist that people only arrived in rear wheel drive cars? Or that all the mourners wore roller skates.

Maybe not, there tend to be a lot of old people at funerals. Maybe there could be a scalextric track for everyone to play with. And absolutely no Genesis songs, even if Jeremy outlived him.

Actually, he was probably fine there unless he had another big accident – he wasn’t going to do that.

Richard turned his attention back to the big oaf, realising that he was walking towards him with a huge beam across his face waving his shoe in the air.

“I have triumphed over the field!” He shouted to Richard. “I found it!”

“Yes!” Richard jumped up and down, waving his sock clad foot in Jeremy’s direction.

“Ah,” said Jeremy. “That could be a problem.”

“What? Why?”

“It’s full of rain, and mud, and other disgusting things you find on campsites. I don’t think you can wear it.”

“But…”

“… and another thing. How, precisely, in the middle of the night in a rainstorm, did you lose your shoe in a bush?” Jeremy fixed Richard with a hard stare.

Richard shuffled. “It’s hard to explain.”

“Does it involve imminent threats of death?” asked Jeremy.

“I don’t know, how mad are you?”

“Imminent threats of death?” asked James. “Frequently, but I’m not in a rush right this moment.”

“Jez has found my shoe, but I can’t wear it,” said Richard.

“That’s fine,” said James.

“What?”

“If you recall, I went to the shop, precisely in the hope of locating you some suitable footwear.”

Richard perked up. “You found some?”

“Is it flip flops?” asked Jeremy, looking hopeful.

“No,” replied James, clearly exceptionally pleased with himself. “I have wellies.” He passed Jeremy a paper bag.

Jeremy peered inside, his grin growing. “Good job, James.”

He handed the bag to Richard.

Excited, Richard peered inside. Then his face fell.

“Sorry, Hamster,” said James, still not looking at all sorry. “It’s all they had in your size.”

………………………………………………………

Jeremy stepped out of the driver’s seat of the Lupo, closing the door behind him and moving to the boot.

“Why exactly are we bringing our own golf clubs to a crazy golf course?” asked James.

“How else are we going to test the boot? See, this estate car has a boot large enough for golf clubs.”

Richard joined them. “I like crazy golf,” he said, “but I don’t think they’re going to let me in.” He looked down at his feet, miserably.

“Nonsense,” said James. “All golfers wear flamboyant clothes, they just make you look more authentic.”

“They’re from Trolls the Return or something!” protested Richard. “They’re rainbows, and they’ve got Poppy on, and they’re definitely intended for girls.”

“And they’re luminous, you forgot that,” added Jeremy.

“Yes! Thanks, Jez,” snapped Richard.

“Don’t be silly, Richard, come on,” said James, leaving Jeremy to grab the golf clubs and heading to the beginning of the crazy golf course.

Jeremy closed the boot, and handed Richard his club, nudging him in James’s direction when he didn’t follow.

“They’re not that bad,” whispered Jeremy. “And at least they’re dry and they fit OK!”

James was already at the first hole. His red ball rested on the start and he was bending down, carefully lining up the angle to the hole and the height of the various hills between him and the hole.

“It’s a good job it’s not busy, James,” commented Richard. “That sort of thing tends to be frowned upon in crazy golf.”

“I don’t think any queue could possibly complain more than you two are likely to.”

“I disagree,” said Richard, “I think they’d be rabid by now, hauling you out of the way by your nose.”

Jeremy snorted.

“As if! People who play crazy golf are generally very civilised,” protested James.

“I’ve played crazy golf many times, but my patience is wearing very thin,” put in Jeremy.

James rolled his eyes, adding. “I think you would be the exception,” then got back to his shot, this time taking even longer to line everything up and take his swing as Jeremy and Richard fidgeted and pulled faces behind him. Then, finally, he hit the ball and it sailed beautifully over the 3 humps and straight into the hole. As the other two stood aghast, James walked to the hole to check, then performed his victory dance.

“Physics, gentlemen, let’s see you do better.”

“I don’t think physics is going to work for me,” whispered Richard. “I’m not sure I can handle the smug.”

“I’m going for power,” declared Jeremy, enthusiastically. “But you make your disastrous effort first, I have achieved a zen like patience whilst waiting for James.”

“Really?” said Richard, giving him an impressive sideways look.

“Yes,” confirmed Jeremy. “I’ve been thinking of all the ways I can put him off as we go round the course.”

“Ah, excellent,” agreed Richard, grinning and glancing up at James.

“Now take your shot, then we can get on with it.”

Richard turned back to the golf course, grabbing his small putter and positioning his hands more or less correctly then, without really looking much at the hole, taking a swing.

The ball moved – good – but that was about all he could say for it. It trundled quickly over the first hump, already off course and slowing down so much that it barely made it over the second.

“Ah,” said Richard.

“I told you, you need more power. It’s those noodles you call arms, they’re not up to the task,” said Jeremy.

“They are! Plenty of, umm, kids much smaller than me can play crazy golf!”

“Show me then,” challenged Jeremy. “I bet you a million pounds I do better than you!”

“A million quid,” Richard nodded seriously. “You’re on, I’ll be excellent at this as soon as I get the hang of it.”

“Power!” said Jeremy again, lining himself up to take his shot. “Out of the way, Hamster!”

He took a swing. His ball sped up the first hill, then launched into the air, flying directly at James and hitting him on the forehead. James reeled slightly, but didn’t fall over, instead standing and staring at Jeremy in surprise.

“James!” cried Richard. “Are you OK?” He rushed over to him, abandoning his ball and his club to go to James’s side, both worried and struggling to avoid bursting into a fit of the giggles.

“Fore!” yelled Jeremy, ridiculously late, before also moving to James’s side. “James?”

“I’m OK,” said James, shaking his head a bit and rubbing his forehead. “Oww, though. What were you thinking, Clarkson?”

“Sorry, James,” said Jeremy, before also erupting into giggles.

James looked at them both sternly for a moment. “It’s nice to know you’re concerned for my well-being, you two,” he muttered, before joining them in laughing. “Pillock. Can’t take you anywhere!”

“I think,” said Jeremy, “next time we should invent car golf, it’ll be safer.”

………………………………………

“We’re supposed to go to the beach?” asked Richard sceptically, looking up at the darkening sky and noting how much the wind was blowing the trees about.

“Yes,” said James. “This is what it’s like going to the beach in the UK.”

“I think we should drive to an airport and fly to a warmer beach,” declared Jeremy.

“We don’t even have passports with us,” pointed out James. “Even if it wasn’t completely absurd.”

“I don’t want to get out of the car,” sulked Jeremy. “It’s warm in here.”

“Is the car growing on you, Jez?” asked James, laughing and getting out of the car, Richard quickly following him, wobbling slightly as the wind caught him.

Jeremy quickly leapt out of the car. “The car is not growing on me, this is just stupid.”

“Come on, Jez,” said James. “I’ll buy you an ice cream.”

James went into the boot, surveying the equipment they’d slung in earlier for a day on the beach.

“None of that is suitable,” announced Jeremy. “We need wetsuits and thermal gear.”

“Don’t be a wuss, Jez,” grinned Richard, the beach itself apparently overruling his initial misgivings. “We can paddle. Maybe fly a kite, did we bring a kite?”

“No,” frowned James. “I didn’t think of that.”

“There’s space in the car though, that’s a point in the Lupo’s favour,” grinned Richard. “Maybe I can go buy one?”

“No, we are not hanging round out here while you get lost finding a kite that will then make you take off on the beach,” objected Jeremy.

“The shop might sell ice cream too,” pointed out Richard, hopefully.

“No! The shops are miles away anyway!”

“Frisbee?”

“I’ve got a Frisbee,” smiled James, reaching into the car and grabbing it. “Ready?”

“No,” grumbled Jeremy, closing the boot nonetheless and following them down the path to the beach, his hands in his pockets and his face like thunder.

James and Richard exchanged a meaningful look, then chose to ignore him. Richard raced off towards the sea, shedding his wellies as he went. James paused as he passed a small kiosk, purchasing two ice creams, and handing the first to Jeremy as he caught up.

“Better?” asked James.

“I’ll tell you in a minute.”

“I would point out that it wasn’t you who was viciously attacked by a golf ball this morning,” said James.

“Yes, but I didn’t get enough sleep,” complained Jeremy, though his mood was obviously already softening with the addition of ice cream.

“Yes, what exactly was that all about?” asked James. “You and him cuddling in the morning, a lost shoe, the wet clothes. What was going on?”

Jeremy frowned in concentration for a moment. “I’m honestly not sure what happened to him. He woke me up because he couldn’t open the door,” he began to giggle.

James snorted. “He really is even more ridiculous than normal,” he chuckled.

“As ridiculous as a VW Lupo estate,” agreed Jeremy.

James laughed properly then, the strange braying laugh that made the others laugh even more. “Yes, as ridiculous as that.” He looked ahead, only then remembering that Richard wasn’t with them and searching for the small figure of his friend. “Speaking of, there’s definitely going to be a way for him to get into trouble here.”

“He’s not blown away,” shrugged Jeremy. “We’ve already failed to get rid of him by air, maybe the sea will work.”

James nodded. “Sea’s probably a better bet,” speeding up as Richard approached the waves. Realistically, it was freezing, the water was presumably also freezing, how far in could their midget get?

And yet.

Richard splashed into the water, the temperature taking his breath away. His trousers were rolled up above his knees, but even after one or two little splashes he could see that they were getting a bit wet. He decided not to worry, provided he kept moving, the sea wasn’t too bad, as long as he kept it below the plums he’d be fine.

“Richard!” called James from the beach.

Richard turned, wondering what James wanted, kicking water towards his friend in the hope of splashing him.

“Oy!” protested James. “Don’t go too far in, Richard, it’s freezing,” he added, presumably what he’d been shouting about in the first place.

“I’ll be careful, it’s fine once you’re in though,” replied Richard. “Jez, fancy it?”

“No chance,” laughed Jeremy. “I only go in seas that look blue and have swimmers already in them – without wetsuits.”

“Very specific,” grinned Richard, splashing hard enough to make both of them step back, then wading in a bit further, the water already touching his knees with each wave.

“The tide’s on its way in,” said James. “Those waves are going to get higher.”

“Not that fast,” laughed Richard, trying to run in the water and making even more of a splash. “Try it!” He kicked water towards them again.

“Hamster,” warned Jeremy, reaching to remove his shoes.

“What? Are you going in?” asked James, surprised.

“He can’t get away with that!” Jeremy rolled his trousers up and shoved his shoes into James’s hands, stepping into the water.

“Jez!” yelled Richard, gleefully.

“Children!” sighed James.

“I thought you said it wasn’t that bad!” gasped Jeremy. “This is ridiculously cold.”

“You wouldn’t have come in if I’d said that,” grinned Richard. “Besides, it’s important to experience the sea in Britain too, for comparison.”

“I know enough to compare,” protested Jeremy. “I don’t have to stick my feet in it.”

“Why did you then?” asked Richard.

“Have you seen what you did to my shirt?” responded Jeremy.

“Not as such,” beamed Richard. “It’s got good coverage.”

“You…” Jeremy lunged with a playful roar, holding his hands out as if he was going to strangle Richard much like Homer might approach Bart Simpson. On the shore, James was cracking up.

Taken off guard, Richard backed up hurriedly, his eyes widening as he dodged Jeremy’s outstretched arms. “James, save me!” he yelled, giggling as he tried to escape.

James laughed all the more. “No chance!”

Then, inevitably, Richard tripped, falling backwards into the water with a huge splash that soaked Jeremy even more.

James and Jeremy both cracked up, laughing uproariously as Richard sat up in the water, spluttering.

“I don’t like water,” he muttered, setting them off even more.

Eventually, once his giggles had subsided and James had started to send him concerned looks about Richard getting cold, Jeremy reached down and pulled the shivering Richard up, cautiously putting an arm round his soggy shoulders and shepherding him towards the beach.

“Bastard,” muttered Richard.

“You totally deserved that,” replied Jeremy, squeezing his shoulder sympathetically, despite his words.

Richard glared at him, but didn’t say anything else, stripping his T-shirt off and wrapping himself with the towel James was holding when they reached the shore.

“Are we off again now then?” asked James.

“Yes, James, otherwise I’m going to turn into an icicle,” retorted Richard, making both men snort with laughter all over again.

“Very cunning, Jez,” commented James.

Jeremy pulled his innocent face, inevitably making him look significantly more guilty. “I didn’t!” he protested.

Richard looked up at him. “Really?”

“No! Not even a little bit!”

James raised his eyebrows.

“Well, maybe ten percent,” admitted Jeremy, reaching down and hauling Richard up in the air. “For which I will pay penance by warming the chilly Hamster up.”

James nodded. “That is acceptable.”

“What about what I think?” put in Richard. “I’m not a baby, I don’t need carrying around.”

“Well, no,” admitted Jeremy, “but you’re warmer aren’t you, so I don’t need to feel guilty when James looks at me.”

Richard sighed, finally relaxing against Jeremy. “I am warmer.”

“So the real question is, gentlemen. What on earth are we going to say about this car?” asked James.

“That’s easy,” grinned Jeremy. “It’s as small and ridiculous as Richard Hammond.”


End file.
